


sail away with me, honey (now, now, now)

by lizimajig



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Friendship, The Cottage in Perthshire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5600146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizimajig/pseuds/lizimajig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What they need most after 3x10 is a holiday. Fitz and Jemma figure out where they stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sail away with me, honey (now, now, now)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for connor-crl on tumblr, whose prompt was, "Fitzsimmons, Nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy and I cant imagine my life without you." Happy Christmas/New Year/winter holiday of your choosing!
> 
> This comes with a mini fanmix for your listening pleasure of things I was listening to whilst writing, and that set a tone that I wanted to match in the writing. It's short, and can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0zKL8mfHGkeiugKHWgk-suXsy9awFNWM) on YouTube.

After fleeing the destruction of the castle and -- so far as they knew -- the last portal to that godforsaken planet, the smart thing seemed to stop off in London before headed back to the Playground. The London SHIELD safe house had been untouched in the Hydra reveal -- or, rather, one had been untouched. The one still standing stood nestled between two other terrace houses in Chelsea, on a quiet street off Gloucester Road. It wasn't far from Hyde Park or the Science Museum and while normally that would have tickled him pink, their first day he could barely lift himself from the bed where he'd collapsed the night before, still fully dressed. 

Jemma had crawled in beside him at some point overnight, and he had to say that he didn't mind. She was a warm comforting weight against his side in this unfamiliar place, and truthfully, he didn't want to be alone any more than she apparently did.

He came out of his coma-like sleep at some unknown hour of the morning. It was early enough that he didn't hear anyone else in the house moving about, maybe even Agent May had taken the morning off. He tried to roll over but that effort came to a grinding halt when his muscles screamed in protest. He wondered for a moment what that animalistic groan was, and then he realized it was him. Then he gave up with a shudder and laid still, like a car engine that wouldn't turn over. Maybe you couldn't get thrown down a couple hills and into a fist fight with an Inhuman god wearing the body of a tall, rather muscular -- 

Will.

It was like being hit in the gut and thrown to the rocky ground all over again.

"Fitz?" Jemma's voice was small but echoed off the bare walls. "Are you awake?"

"... No." His mouth was dry as a bone and the word came out in a croak. He may as well have said "ribbit." "I mean. Sorry. Yeah. Kind of. Did you sleep?"

"Not much," she admitted, and for a moment he's glad he can't see her face. If her face matches her tone, it's not a happy one. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got run over by a lorry." He made another effort at rolling over, and with another groan managed a quarter turn onto his side to face her. She looked exhausted, and her beautiful eyes were rimmed in red. 

Her brow was also furrowed in concern -- a patented Doctor Simmons look. "I should examine you," she decided.

"Jemma, I'm fine -- " He was bone-tired and done in from his recent exertion, but he was convinced any damage, while painful, wouldn't be lasting.

"That cut on your forehead needs a proper cleaning, and you might have internal damage -- you could use a pain reliever at least, certainly -- " 

He knew this was an argument he couldn't win and honestly, he wasn't looking to. "All right, all right." Unbidden, his hand lifted to her face. "Later, yeah?"

She nodded and sighed, snuggling in closer. Silence reigned again, thankfully not awkward, just peaceful. There was a rattle as the heater kicked on, but nothing beyond that for several moments, and he let his eyes fall shut.. 

"Do you think we'll head back to the states right away?" she asked, her question warm on his neck.

"If they intend to do it today they'll have to take this bed with us." Getting up was an effort of a Herculean nature at the moment, and if he could at all avoid it he wanted to. "I don't think I can move."

"Hunter suggested a break, but nobody seemed sold on it one way or another."

He vaguely remembered that conversation between Jemma's hands wrapped tightly around his and the burning desire to lay down and pass out somewhere. "I don't know. Sounds nice."

"With the holiday near, and... everything." It was a big word with a lot of weight attached to it.

He hummed in response. "You could go see your parents. Short train ride away, they'd be thrilled to see you," he suggested.

Jemma was silent for awhile before she said, "I don't think I'm ready to tell them everything. Or what I can. And it... it would come up..."

"Yeah. No. Got it." He wasn't sure he could face them either, and he certainly understood why Jemma wouldn't want to. 

"You could visit your mum," she said in return, and even though she said "you" he mentally substituted "we," Jemma would have surely been invited.

"Maybe." He did miss his mother but he wasn't sure a family holiday could, in any fashion, be restful. It seemed entirely too daunting at the moment.

"I'd much rather spend it with just you."

Her voice was so low he wasn't sure she actually said it, but when he pulled back to look at her she wore a neutral expression, if a little apprehensive. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She tried a smile at him, though it was a little sad. He'd never wanted to fix anything so badly in his life -- and the idea hit him.

"Give me a day and I'll get it in order," he told her.

"Get what in order?" she asked.

"Surprise," he answered succinctly, and instinctively pushed some hair back away from her face. "Don't worry about it. It's early yet, try to sleep." 

She sighed, but her smile did lighten some. _Already worth it._ She closed her eyes, and it was mere moments before his fell shut as well to sleep awhile longer.

\---

Jemma started awake, forgetting where she was for a moment. She stared at the bright ceiling, and then winced at the light that filled the room, listening. She remembered the plane to Edinburgh, but not a lot beyond that -- Fitz guiding her gently from the car to this room, where she'd taken time to remove her shoes and strip out of her jumper, leaving her in a vest and jeans. 

She pushed back the duvet and sat up slowly. At first it was very quiet, but the more she listened, the more she heard: a car passing by on the nearby road, the hum of a refrigerator, and the echo of a distant woodpecker banging on a tree. She took her jumper with her, and carefully emerged from the bedroom. Light flooded the main room, and just beyond the fireplace, the kitchen. There was a light covering of snow on the ground, and she could feel the chill in the air, but she smiled. It was her cottage in Perthshire.

Not the same one she'd seen as a child, of course, she doubted very much she could have pinpointed that location. But it was far better than any she could have imagined, cozy and warm -- or it would be once she figured out how to light the fireplace.

It was a gas fireplace, so it was no more than the flick of a switch on the column containing the unit, and a fire was burning. Her stomach growled loudly, made even more so in comparison by the silence. Next order of business was breakfast.

They had brought nothing with them, though she dimly remembered passing through a small town on the way last night, and they would surely have a grocery there. There were some staples in the kitchen, however. Bread, eggs, tea, some fruit, and some other things besides. Definitely enough to make a decent breakfast.

Jemma usually preferred something light for the first meal of the day, but given she hadn't had a good, satisfying meal in a number of days, something else was more to her taste. By the time she had the eggy in a basket near finished and tea brewing, Fitz had poked his head out of the second bedroom like a groundhog wary of seeing its shadow but ultimately emerged, bleary eyed and yawning. Even though he had grown in a lot of ways during their time in the field -- they both had -- she observed that he still looked far younger than his years while still half-asleep, and it was something of a comfort; an assurance that no matter how crazy things were here or elsewhere in the universe, some things could be counted on.

Then again, she should have known that. "Tea?" she offered him first.

"Yeah," he answered shortly, though not meanly. She fixed him some tea alongside hers (milk for her, more sugar than could possibly be healthy for him) and put it all on the table. They ate and drank in comfortable silence, and by the time she had finished the eggy in a basket, Fitz was somewhat less zombie-like and more alert. 

It was good; exactly what she'd been looking for but she was still hungry. "I think I want another," she said. "Would you like one?"

He looked at her for the first time since making it to the table, a little sheepishly. "Two?"

Her smile was brief but genuine. "Two it is."

\---

The day was spent in service of settling into the cottage. Though Fitz would have been happy to not leave the house until absolutely necessary, Jemma made a fair point when she reasoned that they should just get it over with. This consisted of a trip to town; it wasn't a large place, but it did have a grocery, a pharmacy, and a few other shops. It could, at least, boast of not one but two traffic lights. They needed more food than was in the cottage and some necessities. Everything they had with them was standard issue from the London safe house, and he didn't know about Jemma but he needed more than one pair of pants if he was going to last this week.

It was cold out but not unpleasant, and Jemma talked him into a walk late in the afternoon. Being lab dwellers by nature, and at a base where there were few windows anywhere, fresh air was something of a novelty. (Though, in Fitz's opinion and as he had often argued, "fresh air" could be anything but given how much air pollution human beings created.) But given the recent trip to the alien planet, Fitz had a new found appreciation for the sunshine that streamed past the cloud cover, thin as it was. 

He could tell Jemma felt the same. She had a smile on her face, and though her cheeks glowed red with the cold she didn't seem to mind it. She had a black knit had pulled down over her head covering the tips of her ears, and the black coat was just a size or so too big. She was utterly amazing.

She caught him looking, and made a face. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied, hesitating. "You just... you look better. Rested." He was a chicken.

"I had a good night's sleep last night," she said. "I don't know what that bed is made of but it's amazing. You should use it."

Was she -- ? The news of Will's death had hardly passed his lips not even forty-eight hours ago. His heart dropped into his stomach. It wasn't. He couldn't. "We can trade. The twin beds aren't too bad either." Her face changed ever so slightly, showing only a sliver of disappointment, and he looked away. It was a big bed, they could have shared without touching if that was what they wanted. But no, he had to go be a knob because there wasn't a time when he wasn't in her presence that he _didn't_ want to touch her. 

Luckily, she was still a better conversationalist than he was. "This is really amazing, Fitz. Where did you even find this place?"

"Internet," he answered with a shrug. "You can find everything on the internet."

"Oh, I know that," she said, amused. "It's just... it's so beautiful." 

"Yeah, it's pretty nice." Far cry from Glasgow, but all in all pretty characteristic of Scottish Highland tourism. "We've got it for a week. It's booked over Christmas and New Year's otherwise I'd've gotten it longer."

"This is perfect." She looped her arm through his, and squeezed, so they were walking in perfect step. "Thank you."

He would have done so much more for her. "You're welcome."

The comforting weight of her head leaning ever so slightly on his shoulder remained, and it was a welcome distraction from his own mire of anxieties and worries. "Maybe we should turn around," she suggested. "We're quite a bit down the lane. By the time we get back the sun will be behind the trees."

"Sure." They turned around, and he was relieved to feel her arm thread back into his, and her head rest on his shoulder again.

\---

The longer they were at the cottage, the less Jemma wanted to leave. It was perfect. The only other person with her was her favorite person in the world -- in the wide, terrifying universe -- and they were surrounded by natural beauty, left to do as they please. They were limited in how much work they could do, given that all they had were a couple of tablets and an internet connection, but there were some good ideas flowing. Perhaps most satisfying was that she felt more in sync with Fitz than she had since before the med pod incident. And it was amazing.

But she thought about Will, too, her emotions a mixed up jumble. She was sad, of course. Even more than she'd wanted a chance with him, she'd wanted to be able to bring him back to earth, to see the family and friends who had long given him up for dead. She didn't just want to tell him about how the world had changed -- she wanted to _show_ him. Maybe it wouldn't have lasted. But neither of them would have been light years away from everything and everyone they loved. They would have been all right.

And Fitz...

Fitz was the one making the push at every turn to find the way to bring him back. His usual pessimism had turned into radiant optimism whenever her hope faltered, and (even though she'd told him to stop snapping at the others in the lab) pushing for things to work faster and harder. Part of that, at least, was because making the rescue was the right thing to do. But she knew in her heart, even if he'd never said it, that it was mostly because she wanted him back. Because she'd said that she was in love with him. She knew it just as well as she knew that he did it because he was in love with her just as much as he ever had been. It had hurt him, but he'd done it for her. Everything she'd ever felt for Fitz came back in a rush, somehow more fervent than it had been before. The flame she'd slowly let die since her message in a bottle smashed on the canyon rock burned brightly again.

Confusion and conflict ruled her. It would have been much easier although painful in its own way if Fitz had refused to help or given only minimal assistance. You shouldn't want to bring the man who was in love with the same woman you were back, should you? It was all the more reason to love him, if anything. 

These sort of thoughts tumbled one into the next in her brain as she tried to fall asleep, often until she couldn't make one out over the other and it drove her to tears. She did her best to keep occupied in the day so this would never happen in front of Fitz, but her mind still wandered a great deal. Like right now, the evening of their fourth day at the cottage. She was washing their dinner dishes and handing them off to him for drying, but she otherwise barely acknowledged him, staring out into the dark beyond the kitchen window. She had, in fact failed to notice that he was saying her name repeatedly; judging from the look on his face this had to be something like the fourth or fifth time. "Hm?" she asked.

"I asked if you were all right." His brow was furrowed in concern.

"Yes. Sorry, just thinking." Well, it wasn't precisely a lie.

"About?"

Shit. "There's a hot tub outside and we haven't even touched it," she lied fluently.

"Yeah, because it's two and a half degrees outside," he replied, as though to say _obviously._

"So? Sounds like the perfect time to make use of a hot tub."

He made noises of protest, and she knew she'd successfully distracted him from what was really on her mind. "And where have you been hiding your bathing suit?"

"I hunted a tentacle monster in my vest and knickers, you think I'm fussy about what I might wear in a hot tub?" He looked relieved for a moment, which was such an unexpected reaction, she laughed a little. "What?"

He looked embarrassed before answering in a hushed tone (as though there was someone to overhear them), "I thought you'd suggest going in naked."

She blushed. "Well, maybe not that far." That seemed just a little too brazen. "So? How about it?" He hesitated, but she knew that it was a yes.

Dishes finished, she was ready to go a few minutes later. The big, fluffy robes that came with the other linens in the cottage were certainly cozy and nice to wrap yourself in after a shower (she was definitely investing in one of these for back at the Playground), but unfortunately they didn't do much against the cold. "Fitz! Hurry up!" she called back across the garden as she finagled the cover off the tub. 

"I'm coming!" he shouted back, although he was obviously dragging his feet about it.

"If you went any slower, you'd be moving backwards." Steam was rising off the water, and the heat felt wonderful even at this distance. She pushed out of her shoes, slipped out of the robe, and lifted herself over the side, sighing happily as she slipped into the water. She looked back to see Fitz still hovering in the open back door. "Come on!"

"All right, stop shouting!" he yelled back. He dropped the robe and made a dash for the hot tub, more or less vaulting clumsily over the side and into the water next to her. She burst out laughing, which came a little harder when he slipped as he made his landing. "Oi, I could have just seriously injured myself. Slipped and cracked my head, then how'd you be feeling?"

"Still laughing because you're being melodramatic?" she said.

"You'd feel terrible," he corrected, drifting towards her, seated on the ledge.

"I would," she finally relented, raising herself enough to kiss him on the head, where he might have cracked it open in his disastrous hot tub landing. "You're right."

"Right you would," he said, straightening slightly, though she could tell it wasn't awkwardness but two of his favorite words two of his favorite words to hear that had changed his posture. Unsure of what else to do, she kissed him on the mouth much as she had in the lab -- deliberately, though a bit more slowly.

He didn't seem to be sure of how to react for a moment, but he didn't pull away. Eventually she felt him relax and lean into her, a hand coming around her waist to rest lightly on her back. It didn't have the desperate spontaneity of the kisses in the lab, but was sweet all the same. 

He broke it unexpectedly, but didn't pull away or avoid her eyes. His cheeks were flushed red, either from the heat of the water or embarrassment, and he gave her a nervous smile. It relaxed considerably when she smiled as well, and they settled on the bench. His arm was still around her, and she let her hand rest on his leg, scraping lightly with her nails. "One of my better ideas, I think," she said, ambiguously referring to either the kiss or the dip in the hot tub.

"Well. You are a genius," Fitz responded, not bothering to deny either.

She reached out for just a moment to hit the button that would turn on the jets, and resumed her position resting against Fitz. He didn't say anything more and neither did she. This is the way evenings had ordinarily gone, simply being in the other's company, with some little distraction or another -- there was always internet radio for background music, and there was a surprisingly wide selection in the DVD collection if Netflix didn't offer anything appealing. But she barely paid attention to any of those. Her concentration fell almost entirely on him.

Right now, she was looking out across the empty field to the nearly bare trees, and the clear sky. The stars were brilliant. "It's beautiful out here," she remarked, not for the first time. She felt rather than heard his hummed agreement. Her eyes remained heavenward, and she moved between spotting the constellations and just casting her glance around, catching the light band of the Milky Way out of the corner of her eye. 

_"Do you ever miss the constellations?" she asked Will, looking up from their seat on the ridge._

_"Sure," he answered. "Along with showers, nachos, baseball, real toothpaste, my mom's cooking, clothes not manufactured for NASA..."_

_"All right, I take your point," she said, and he chuckled gently, his hand rising along her spine to the back of her neck. His hands were large and rough but felt like feathers on her skin. "Ever try to make pictures anyway?"_

_"Didn't spend a lot of time above ground until you came around, and when I did it wasn't to look at the stars," he said. The two moons were lighted enough to cast a shadow across his face when he looked at her._

_"Shame. This place can be quite beautiful when it's not trying to actively kill you," she observed cheekily._

_"Sometimes," he agreed. "But there wasn't anybody to tell me so until you appeared."_

_A lump grew in her throat, and his hand moved to drape her arm across her shoulders. "None of the other astronauts had the whimsy to remark on it?" she asked._

_"I guess not," he said. "And I certainly wouldn't have done this if they did." His mouth covered hers, and it sparked something in her belly, deeper than her stomach. If they had to be miles of miles away from home and everything they knew, even the stars, they had each other._

"Jemma?"

She realized too late that she'd started to cry. Silently, but impossible to miss at this proximity. "I'm sorry. I -- I'm just -- "

"Don't apologize," he said, tangling his hand into the ends of her ponytail, only just wet from the water. "You've been incredibly resilient. Anyone else would go stark raving mad after what you've been through. Whatever you're thinking of... it's okay."

"I was thinking about Will." 

She could practically hear the record scratch. "Oh." His hand had stilled in her hair, and he awkwardly held on. "Well. Of course -- " He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Of course you were."

"Oh, Fitz, not like that, it..." It was moments like this one. "The stars, they..." God, but how to explain?

"I shouldn't have let you... I mean, it's got to be confusing -- "

"Don't tell _me_ I'm confused, Fitz!"

"-- you're -- you were in love with him, it -- it's not -- not fair to, to, to..." He rarely grasped for words like this anymore, but sometimes it came back, particularly when emotions were running high. 

"I knew exactly what I was doing, Fitz," she snapped. "I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

"I don't have any business kissing you." The words burst out from him and he winced to hear it. 

For her part, Jemma's blood ran cold at that, despite the heat of the water. "If you don't want me to kiss you, then you're right. Otherwise, I really think that's for the two of us to decide, don't you?"

Fitz gaped for a moment, at a true loss for words. "I." His hand was no longer in her hair, and there was space between them on the bench. And now he wouldn't look at her. "I -- sorry. Sorry," he repeated, rising out of the water and swinging out of the hot tub. He didn't even look back as he crossed the garden to the back door. She was so upset she couldn't even laugh at the sight of him in his pants stalking back on his skinny legs.

\---

He was a prat. He was a prat and terrible and full of shit and he deserved nothing but her scorn. He definitely had no business wanting her or pretending he was good enough for belong to her.

He didn't sleep well that night, waking up several times and never managing to find the right spot in the bed to be comfortable. He finally gave up on trying to sleep, and though he could hear Jemma puttering around outside his closed door, he wasn't ready to leave and face her. What was there to say? 

But it was equally ridiculous to put it off. This was a tiny cottage and he would have to emerge at some point. He opened the door to Jemma standing there hand raised awkwardly, ready to knock, a mug of tea in the other. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I'm... I'm an arse, and I'm sorry."

Her smile was small and understanding. "I know. I forgive you," she said, presenting the tea to him. He accepted it, taking a drink of the warm, sugary goodness, but that hadn't been his worry. He knew that for such a minor infraction that her forgiveness was assured. His larger sins may not be so easy to overlook. 

They reveled in the silence that day; awkward as it started, but more relaxed as the day wore on. Nobody bothered with the television or putting on music, and the result was blissful quiet, the sort that they rarely had on base. He cherished this sort of quiet, and the only one he could ever properly share it with was her.

Some time later he woke up without having realized he'd fallen asleep. The steady, sure stroking of fingers over his hair didn't do much to encourage him to wake up. But he did glance up to see Jemma glancing down to him, smile beatific. "What?"

"Nothing," she replied. "You just looked very peaceful sleeping, I..." She sighed. "Listen. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just assumed you'd like being kissed -- "

"Oh. _Jemma._ " He groaned, sitting up and turning back to look at her.

"I mean it. If... I'll stop." Though he believed that she was telling the truth -- if he asked her to, she would -- her face told him it would be her greatest sadness to do so.

"That's not..." Words were abandoning him, as they always had when it concerned Jemma. "You should get to mourn Will. Properly, I mean."

She didn't answer and for a moment he thought the conversation was over there, but she continued. "I suppose if I'm honest, I had already," she said, looking away and down to her hands. "I knew chances were slim we'd find a way back. Even if we had a means to open a portal, we'd have a hard time knowing where we'd arrived on the planet, and if we could get back -- " 

"I'm sorry," he blurted out again. "I couldn't bring him back for you."

"Oh, Fitz. He was gone before I'd even collected myself enough to try to go back. Probably before we'd even returned through the portal."

"I know." He did know that. It was what the rational part of his brain was telling him, that there was nothing that could have been done beside what he did, and that was to keep everyone and everything here safe by preventing the Inhuman death god whatever from reaching planet earth. "I can still be sorry for it."

Jemma looked back to him, and her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I don't know what I did to possibly deserve you."

" _Me?_ " It was a rather undignified squeak.

"You." She opened her mouth and closed it again. It wasn't often that words failed Jemma, but now she searched for the right ones. "Will or no Will. You're the best man I've ever known and I can't imagine my life without you." She paused. "Actually, I don't have to. I was without you while I was at Hydra, and it was awful."

He heard the words but it was still hard to hear them and more than that, believe he deserved them. "I'm. Same, obviously." God, a life without Jemma wasn't worth contemplating, and that was why he'd worked so hard at finding her. "I'm not -- " 

"I know you don't see it. No one ever does, not in themselves. But if you ever believe anything I'm going to tell you, believe that. And that you're the only one I want to kiss."

It was the same madness that took him over in the lab that day, and it was the same fierce kiss, somewhat clumsy in its execution, but she met him with all the enthusiasm that she'd displayed there, and it melted into all the slow sweetness of the previous night's kiss. He wanted to find all the different ways to kiss her on every place in her body, from the top of her head to her feet and every blessed place in between.

One hand creeps under his shirt, and the other tries to undo the buttons. Loathe as he is to take his hands off her, he helps, and his shirt is soon tossed aside, hers to join it in mere seconds. The rest showed their stumbling path to her bedroom. 

\---

By the time Jemma thought to take a look at the clock, the sun had been long gone. They faced one another, quiet but happy. Their legs were tangled together, and his fingers traced patterns of no true consequence along the skin of her back. "So," he mumbled. "Now what."

She sighed, just happy to be in his company and under his dear, clever hands. But in two days they would be leaving and going back into the world. To work. "Well. While we're here it seems like a shame to not see your family, and mine." She knew that wasn't what he'd meant, but it was on her mind all the same. 

"Mm." He didn't disagree, anyway. "You feel better about going to them, then?" 

"As long as you'll be with me." She could do anything if he was with her.

"Of course I will be," he answered, pulling her a little closer. His face was much closer now, and she could kiss him again. 

Her fingers stayed pressed to his cheeks, stubble rough underneath them but a welcome, wonderful sensation anyway. "When we leave, I want to leave all the terrible things here. The arguments, the med pod, that awful planet, Will, all of it. It doesn't matter. And all that will matter is what's in front of us. Can -- can we do that?"

He hesitated. "You may regret making that request later."

"Then let me regret it. I just. I want so much to move forward and I can't do it without you. I _can't._ " She feels herself begin to tremble again, not this time in the throes of tender lovemaking but from emotion.

Fitz's hands stopped their ministrations and came up to her face, holding until she looked at him. "I am going to be with you, always. No matter what."

Jemma nodded, and took that as his agreement, and his promise. They sealed it with a kiss, and another, and another, and he moved from her mouth, to cheek, to jaw, neck, collarbone, and further down until she could no longer keep her happiness to herself.


End file.
